The Good Father

He considered pretending he was already out back in his enclosed backyard, under water in the pool. Considered turning his back, walking outside and diving in. She’d have no way of getting his attention.

And even as he considered doing so, he pulled open the door. If he thought he had to avoid her, they had a problem.

“Oh!”

Whatever words had been on her lips, ready to be delivered, didn’t make it past her open mouth as she stared at him.

“I...I’m sorry...” She was backing away, one step at a time. “I didn’t realize...”

Intrigued, a bit turned on and not unhappy to see her, Brett switched gears when it occurred to him how the situation might look, from out on the porch, looking in.

Not yet dinnertime. Him clearly naked beneath his towel...

She could easily assume he had a woman inside.

“It’s not what you think...” He spoke quickly, before she turned tail and ran. When he and Ella had lived together, they’d made love before dinner on a regular basis. They’d been apart all day. And were hungry.

“I should have called,” she said, awkwardly looking around—everywhere but at him.

“Probably,” he allowed. “But more because your chances of catching me at home are slim.”

Yet she had.

“I was just going for a swim. You want to join me?”

The question was uncharacteristic. As was the fact that he’d uttered it without forethought. Uncharacteristic to the man he’d become.

Not uncharacteristic to the much younger man who’d once been married to this woman. She’d always had a strong effect on him. And instead of dissipating, it had only grown stronger the longer they were together. Most particularly as he watched her put herself through procedure after procedure because she’d so badly wanted to bring their child into the world, and then try to comfort him after every disappointment. He’d been strangely detached himself, to the news of no baby, but each time, he’d grown more and more invested in her disappointment. He couldn’t make her happy. The conception challenges were hers. They’d had tests. She suffered from a hormonal imbalance that rid her body of fertilized eggs before they could implant. He didn’t have to feel guilty about not being able to give her a child. No, his unease was much more selfish, much more like something his father would have felt. He’d hated that she’d had to have a baby to be happy.

He’d hated the fact that he wasn’t enough for her.

He’d fought the intensity. Keeping himself in check as he’d learned to do. Preventing any chance that he’d do something unforgivable.

And he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. Day after day after day. Because of the baby they couldn’t conceive, he’d told himself. But he’d known that his distance was hurting her, too. He just hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

“I don’t have a suit.”

She hadn’t said no. She’d made an excuse. Wasn’t going to swim with him. But she hadn’t said no.

The distinction counted.

It shouldn’t.

“Although a swim sounds good.” The words came slowly. Hesitantly. As though she reserved the right to take each one back as she uttered it.

She was looking at him now. At his chest. He could almost feel her reaching out to him, running her fingers through his chest hair, pausing to tease his nipples, as she’d done so many times in the past.

“I need to speak with you, Brett.” Her frown held a question as she watched him. And for a second he wondered if he’d imagined her words. About swimming with him.

Or maybe it had just been the intonation he’d mistaken. She’d been making a casual comment, and he’d heard innuendo.

“It’s important.” Arms crossed now, she stood on his front porch, slender and tall with her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, looking sexy and serious. Professional. Turning him on...

He spun around abruptly, before his body betrayed him. “I’ll just go get dressed,” he said. “Come on in.” Leaving the door wide, he strode back to his master suite, concerned about where this project was leading him.

* * *

ELLA WASN’T GOING to be affected by him. Or by his home. She’d never seen the inside before, of course. They’d only visited Santa Raquel during their marriage, not lived there. They hadn’t owned a home there. And he wasn’t hers anymore. Not her lover. Not her husband or partner or spouse.